


Olympic Tryouts (part 20)

by jennamacaroni



Series: Olympic Tryouts [20]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:59:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2347727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennamacaroni/pseuds/jennamacaroni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana and Brittany have been rivals in the college hockey world for the past four years.  now they’re both at Olympic tryouts to play on the same team and Boston and Minnesota just don’t get along, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Olympic Tryouts (part 20)

**Author's Note:**

> i don't have much to say except MY FEELS. MY FUCKING FEELS ARE OUT OF CONTROL i literally couldn't stop them even if i wanted to. thank you all so much. also i'm going to bump up the rating on this fic because reasons.
> 
> i did end up making that hockey 101 post, you can find the link on my tumblr (jennamacaroni dot tumblr dot com slash fic).
> 
> also you should google ellie goulding's cover of kodaline's "all i want". you'll see why.

Brittany spends half of team dinner staring across the table at Santana like she's a meal she'd like to devour and the other half ignoring her completely.

Santana excuses herself during one of Rachel's marathon rants on the health benefits to eating vegan and makes her way to the back of the restaurant in search of the bathroom.

As she sits down to pee, she wonders why anyone in their right mind could ever give up meat voluntarily, nevermind cheese, because is there really anything better on this earth than a good grilled cheese? And how the hell does Rachel manage to have the fuel to power her body through the insane conditioning and marathon double sessions of their practice schedule? Especially considering she must expel a tremendous amount of energy operating her vocal cords as she never shuts her damn mouth.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the handle to the bathroom jiggling aggressively and a desperate sounding rap on the door. "Someone's in here," Santana calls out, annoyed. There's a short pause before the knocking sounds again as Santana reaches to turn on the faucet. "I said hold ON!" she shouts, grumbling profanities under her breath as she dries her hands. The knocking doesn't stop and now Santana is really pissed. She turns the deadbolt and flings open the door about to give whoever can't wait a piece of her mind but Brittany is there in an instant with a hand across her open mouth, muffling whatever insult she had at the tip of her tongue and pushing her back into the tiny bathroom.

"Br.. Wht th.."

Brittany kicks the door shut with her foot.

Before Santana can get another word out, Brittany has one hand around her waist and is half pushing, half lifting her against the far wall, crashing into the framed picture of Gerald Ford who apparently had eaten at this restaurant a million years ago and it's still the most significant thing to ever happen there. The frame crashes to the ground but doesn't break and Santana bursts out laughing before Brittany steals her breath by kissing her roughly and open-mouthed, hands wandering from Santana's ass up her sides pushing up her shirt and back down again. Santana is practically seeing stars as she finds purchase against the sink and grabs at the back of Brittany's neck with her other hand. They kiss sloppily and hungrily for a full minute before Brittany is so breathless she has to pull away, her shoulders whole body shaking.

"Really couldn't wait to use the bathroom, huh?" Santana gasps between ragged breaths, reaching to smooth the wild flyaways from around Brittany's face.

"Shut up and kiss me," Brittany demands, locking their lips together.

"Britt," Santana manages between kisses. "Britt… wait."

"You asked me what you won," Brittany husks, moving her open mouth down the column of Santana's neck to suck at the hollow space at her collarbone. Santana can't stifle the moan when Brittany's tongue darts out and licks along a long, prominent tendon all the way back up to her ear and tugs the lobe between her teeth.

"Dear… God," Santana manages, trying to keep from collapsing to the ground as Brittany tightens a grip around her waist. "People," she gasps, trying to formulate thoughts. "People are going to notice… we're…" Brittany's tongue is now tracing along the shell of Santana's left ear and she swallows her breath.

"Let them wonder," Brittany whispers, continuing to kiss a path along her cheekbone until she arrives back at Santana's lips, sucking the bottom one between her teeth. Santana relishes in the just-barely-there traces of the dark and bitter beer Brittany was sipping on at dinner and allows her senses to be completely consumed.

Just as Santana moves to drag her nails under Brittany's shirt and along her perfect abs, there's another knock on the door.

"It's going to be awhile!" Brittany calls, her voice transformed into an exaggerated and high pitched southern drawl. "Somethin' here is just not agreein' with me, if ya know what I mean, sweetie! Shouldn't have ordered the chili!" She emits an exaggerated groan and blows a loud farting noise for emphasis.

"Ewww." Santana has to press her face into the crook of Brittany's neck to stifle a laugh.

After a few moments of quiet, Brittany slowly extricates herself from Santana and opens the door a crack, ensuring there's no one in the back hallway to discover them.

"Coast is clear," Brittany calls over her shoulder, throwing up a peace sign and a wink before slinking out of the restroom and back out to the team.

Santana's feet give out as the door shuts and she sinks the the floor in a heap.

_____

"Took you long enough," Quinn calls obnoxiously across the table, sure to get everyone's attention as Santana finally makes it back to the dinner table.

"Upset stomach," Santana lies, hoping Quinn won't make any more of her extended absence.

"Right. And was Brittany bringing you some Tums or…?"

Santana feels her face burn but throws a defiant glare in Quinn's direction. Luckily Rachel finds a spider in her water glass and shrieks bloody murder, distracting the team from any further suspicion.

_____

As Santana makes her way down the aisle of the plane trailing behind Quinn, her anxiety blooms acutely from her chest with every step, constricting her airway and quickening her pulse. As she falls into the seat next to Quinn, she's nearly hyperventilating, struggling for every breath.

"Sit, sit," Quinn soothes, taking Santana's bag and throwing it into the overhead bin and looking worriedly at her best friend who is now pushed up tightly against the window and clutching the sill, staring longingly at the tarmac while trying in vain to subdue the oncoming panic.

With a deeply furrowed brow, Quinn rummages through her own carry on, fishing for the inhaler she carries just in case. She passes the cartridge to Santana across the row of seats and calls for Brittany who is still making her way onto the plane, motioning for her to take the middle seat alongside Santana.

It's the first time Quinn has ever not sat next to her best friend.

The second Brittany gets a clear view of Santana her heart sinks. She has her knees pulled up to her chest and her eyes pressed tightly shut, struggling to pull air into her lungs as Brittany swings into the row beside her.

"Hey," she whispers, rubbing soft circles into Santana's back and taking her hand. "It's okay. You're okay." But the soothing words do nothing to abate Santana's panic, so Brittany does the only thing that comes to mind. She sings.

" _All I want is nothing more than to hear you knocking at my door. Cause if I could see your face once more, I'd die a happy woman I'm sure._ " Her voice cracks as she whisper-sings the opening bars, but Santana's hands unclench just slightly. Brittany smoothes a hand across Santana's forehead and continues. " _But if you love me, why'd you leave me? Take my body, take my body. All I want is and all I need is to find somebody, I'll find somebody like you_."

"You have a pretty voice." It's barely audible, but it's there and Brittany can't help the chuckle that bubbles from her throat, pressing a quick and inconspicuous kiss to the crown of Santana's head. "Don't stop," Santana begs. "It' helps."

"Never," Brittany promises, continuing the song until Santana uncoils and relaxes enough to tuck into Brittany's shoulder, her breaths evening out little by little.

_____

Santana chases sleep once the plane is airborne and Brittany drapes a blanket over them both, keeping a steady hand on Santana's warm thigh under the cover.

_I'm here._

_I know._

"That's the worst I've seen her get in a while," Santana hears Quinn say from the end of their row. "You're good at calming her. Maybe even better than I am, and I've been doing this with her a long time." Santana doesn't like the idea of Quinn talking about her, especially to Brittany and especially since she's right there to hear the whole conversation, but she can't find the energy to speak up.

"She's always been afraid like this?" Brittany asks, reaching her free hand to trace a feather-light finger along Santana's eyebrow.

"As long as I can remember. I think it really gets to her because the phobia is something she can't control, you know? She sees herself as this brick wall and nothing can penetrate that but the second she gets on an airplane it completely disarms her. She loses that control and panics."

Santana feels Brittany nod against the crown of her head.

"I know she told you, about the kissing." Brittany whispers, turning to look at Quinn. "You don't have to worry. The team comes first, we both understand that. And we've both worked for this and nothing will get in the way of winning that gold medal."

"As the best friend, it's my job to worry," Quinn counters, but there's no malice in her tone. "She seems different. Good different, for the most part. As long as she doesn't have another first period like she did today, your secret is safe with me. For now. But the second whatever this, whatever you two are, threatens the team, I'm going straight to Coach. Understand?"

"I understand," Brittany promises. "We're going to figure it out, we can't keep it secret forever." There's a hint of worry in Brittany's tone as she trails off and it stirs an uneasiness somewhere deep inside Santana.

"Hey, Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Just take care of her," Quinn whispers, barely audible over the roar of the jet engines.

Santana moves her free hand slowly under the blanket and brushes her fingertips against Brittany's.

_Thank you._


End file.
